Delusional
by sinamor
Summary: A short character study of Eddie.


He doesn't even feel the sores that infested his face. They were nothing but a recollection of what he used to be before waking up.

They signaled his new life, his new exterior. And for once, he actually thought that he might finally be able to let go of the past, wash away all those vulgar memories of his childhood.

Those memories that haunted him for so long, those _vile _pictures that the doctors used to shove in his face and force him to look at. Force him to admit the truth. But it wasn't the truth, he knew that. The pictures proved nothing. They were nothing, so he learned to block them out.

He even learned to laugh at them, like a joke. Nothing but a cruel joke.

Nothing that a little snips here and there couldn't fix.

The man chained to the wooden table shrieked in hysterics, yanking desperately at the ropes which held him there. Eddie stood in the shadows near his worktable, a irritated sigh escaping from his lips. They always screamed, always. As if he was the bad guy or something. Didn't they realize that he was only trying to fix them for the better? Make them whole again..

But no.. They always ran away from him, they always cried. He gave them so much love but at the end of the day, they always betrayed him.

He tightly gripped the handle of the narrow blade that rested between his fingers, a subtle anger rising in the back of his mind.

They always used him.

"My love." He finally stepped into the light, giving the bond victim a chance to see their impending doom.

The man flinched as the feel of cool metal suddenly caressed his bloodied cheek, running down to rest at the center of his bare chest.

His whimpers rose to cries of mercy, and Eddie did the only thing he could think of.

He cut away everything that was wrong. The cries become screams, but then died down to gurgles and chokes.

In the end, there was silence. And blood coated the walls and floors.

Some of it got on his suit. He frowned deeply at that, how disrespectful of his darling to bleed so much. He was only trying to make them better.

His eyes rose from his suit and came to rest upon his new masterpiece. Sprawled about the table, lay what used to be a male inmate. There was so much red. It was the represented color of love.

How cliche.

He nonchalantly shoved the corpse off the table.

They would hang like the rest.

That's how it always was.

xx

The young nurse was weeping.

She looked like a frightened doe, with wide eyes and fragile features.

He adored the raw innocence that she displayed, it was things he thought only existed in his dreams. So he confessed his love constantly, he protected her from the others, he kept her hidden.

But she cried, she begged, and she tried to run away from him.

He would touch her, she would flinch.

He would whisper kind words in her ear, but she did nothing in return.

He couldn't understand what was wrong. He did everything a good man did to his girl.

But her cheeks remained tear-stained.

It was her fault, he finally realized. Not him, never him.

She wasn't being a good lover.

She wouldn't stop crying.

And he had to shut her up.

So he stitched her mouth closed with a needle and thread.

The crying stopped, and he was pleased for the moment.

But she still flinched at his touch.

And Eddie wouldn't stand for that.

So he skinned her.

And now she couldn't feel at all.

xx

Eddie tossed another failed sketch to the floor.

He couldn't decide whether the wedding dress should have a light floral pattern on the wrist or if he should keep it plain white.

He scribbled a flower pattern onto the paper in front of him.

With a tilt of his head, he pondered the idea. It could work. But he'd need the right fabrics.

A clear silk would look nice, especially eye-catching in this dull area. A few ruffles at the collar sounds good.

He wanted it perfect.

He wanted to feel a spark in his heart when his beautiful bride walked down the aisle. The long dress fitting her curves snugly, pooling at her feet and dragging behind.

It would be beautiful.

She would be beautiful.

And he'd be happy.

The groom and his bride

xx

"A woman's work is never done."

That's what his mother used to say didn't she?

While she mopped the kitchen floor, dusted the cabinets, cooked supper, and fed the dog.

She would say things like that.

With her hair pulled back into a bun, a few stray curls escaping. A bright red robe wrapped around her waist.

She reminded him what he needed to know.

She kept him safe.

Not like dad.

xx

"Don't you love me!"

His fists pounded into the flailing man below him.

Another betrayer, another slut.

They weren't worth his love, they were below him.

"Don't you care?"

The man groaned as another fist slammed right into his nose, an audibly crack being heard.

The noise sent a wave of pleasure through Eddie.

He didn't hold up his attack.

Pulling out the blade from his back pocket, he plunged it into his darling's chest.

The victim's screams echoed through out the entire building. A haunting last cry of pain.

Yanking the knife out, Eddie shoved it back in.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

He stopped counting after the fifth stab.

And in the end, as always, he was met with nothing but silence.

And a lot of red.


End file.
